


My Ghost, Where'd You Go?

by sadgirlsclub



Series: 5SOS Song Preferences [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bottom Michael, Depression, Gambling, Halsey - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, New York City, Sad, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, michael is an asshole, no luke or ashton i'm sorry, really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadgirlsclub/pseuds/sadgirlsclub
Summary: "My ghost, where'd you go? What happened to the soul that you used to be?"Based off the song Ghost by Halsey where Calum opens himself up to love, only to be betrayed in the end.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: 5SOS Song Preferences [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037964
Kudos: 4





	My Ghost, Where'd You Go?

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of Ghost by Halsey and is really angsty! Enjoy! x

_"My ghost, where'd you go? What happened to the soul that you used to be?"_

_When looking back at the past together, before I knew it he was disappearing, maybe he never even existed._

The soft buzz of the city echoed from below Calum's bedroom window. The sound of police sirens blared through the night and the occasional sounds of shouts could be heard in the busy streets. Drunken civilians laughed and danced as if this was their last night on earth and the smell of food stands and late night takeaway restaurants plagued the vicinity of the polluted air. Skyscrapers roamed for miles, some filled with office buildings and others occupying the lives of the inhabitants that lived there.

Calum was one of those inhabitants.

Even after moving to New York City from the western suburbs of Sydney a year and a half ago, he was still astounded by how the city held so much artistry and how it never seemed to sleep.

The city had once been a safe place for him, the neon lights and the beauty of the night life, but now it only held some of his saddest memories. Memories he'd rather forget about.

Calum had met Michael two years ago.

He had originally moved to the infamous city to attend university but in attempt to prove his stubborness, gambled all of his college money away. Being too ashamed to go back home, he eventually ended up living above a rundown pub, getting a job as the bartender and that's how he first met Michael.

The first time Calum had seen him had been on a rainy, Friday evening.

It was late, about eleven at night and the sky was painted a metallic black, stars twinkling and even though raining, the city was still as busy as ever.

A punk looking figure came stumbling through the doors of the pub, boots stomping against the floorboards and everyone had turned to look at him.

He was drenched from head to toe, water droplets hanging off the tips of his jet black hair and the sleeves of his leather jacket. His boots made a squelching sound whenever he took a step towards the bar, leaving dark footprints embedded in the carpeted flooring. His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, indicating he had been crying and his skin was an abnormally pale, milky white color much like that of a _ghost_.

Even then, whilst looking his worst, Calum had thought he was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

His eyes prickled with tears at the memory.

Calum remembers being the bartender on the night shift at the time Michael had come in, wanting to drown his sorrows away after being cheated on by a girl that he didn't bother learning the name of. He sat and listened anyway. He liked listening to Michael talk as he continued to serve other people that night, shaking up cocktail mixes and cleaning glasses all the while making sure that Michael didn't get _too_ drunk. He wouldn't allow him to make himself sick. Michael had a beautiful voice even though it was wrecked and barren from his crying. It was creamy and light, just like Michael.

That was how Calum _always_ thought of Michael: creamy and light, angelic even.

His hand brushed over the empty sheets where Michael would sometimes lay as he recalled the memory. He remembers very early into their relationship how Michael would cuddle into the brown eyed boy, tracing his tattoos and leaving chaste kisses on his chest. His vibrant, soft jaded eyes would gaze up at him, half lidded, drooped and heavy as he felt sleep consume him but all the while wearing a lazy smile on his face. That was before Michael changed.

Michael was there physically but emotionally, he was dead. 

At first, the two sat at the bar for hours, chatting away about their lives, their heartbreaks, their families. They'd talk of their drunken escapades and childhood memories, busking in the light, airy atmosphere of the of the alcohol surrounding them. Calum had to make sure Michael didn't drink himself to death.

They had gone back to Michael's apartment, a beautiful condo that overlooked the city with an iron gate system built in. Michael was rich, Calum noted, as they stepped onto the marble flooring and he was afraid to touch anything in fear of breaking it. The pristine, white walls were lined with countless picture frames, all of them placed in an order from smallest to largest. Some were from when he was younger and some had been taken more recently. Calum smiled before his face turned into a soft frown, realizing he hadn't seen his family for over a year.

Guiding him to the bedroom, Michael flicked on the light switch and gave him a warm smile as he sat crossed legged on the bed. His elbows rested on his knees before his eyes lit up as if remembering something. He crawled to his bedside table, grabbing a packet of _Marlboro_ before lighting one up and offering it to Calum. The brown skinned boy shook his head, no, and then proceeded to sit down next to Michael.

The silence was awkward for awhile, neither of them saying anything as Michael continued to inhale and exhale the contents of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. He turned to Calum, a small smile gracing his features, hair still damp from the rain before saying, "Can I kiss you? Please, let me be your taste test."

He was taken aback for a moment. He'd only known Michael for a few hours yet the boy was already asking to kiss him. Calum wasn't innocent, he'd had numerous one night stands before, kissed plenty of people but no one had asked him if he wanted to be kissed. It had always been an in the moment situation where one thing had lead to another but no one had ever _asked_ to kiss Calum. Was this a good thing? Probably. Should he be trusting this drunken, hazy eyed stranger who was probably only using him for a rebound? Probably not. However, Calum didn't care. He was already infatuated with Michael after he saw him walk into the pub with his dark aura and mysterious eyes. Life is inevitable. It's a waiting game, the preserved memoir between the illusion of life and death. It's the thousands of particles that come together which make up the galaxy and produce the wonders of the world's most beautiful yet ugliest outcomes. What did he have to lose? 

He leant in awkwardly, head titled to the side as Michael mirrored his actions. When their lips met, it was slow, gentle, almost affectionate, as if Michael _cared._ That was something Calum hadn't felt in a long time. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cared about him. The kiss wasn't a firework moment like people depict in stories. There were no butterflies felt in the pit of his stomach or the overwhelming feeling of his heart jumping out of his chest. It was just a _kiss_ , two people making skin on skin contact and lip locking. There was no secret motive or metaphor behind it. This was reality.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds before they both pulled away, Calum's cheeks tinted a deep crimson colour. Michael giggled, shaking his head before pulling his face back towards his and kissing him deeply. This time, it wasn't like the first kiss. This was more intense, passionate, and hurried.

Before any of them could process what happened next, Calum had Michael withering into the sheets, fucking him senseless into the mattress. It wasn't magical, it wasn't uttered with beautiful words or the delicate touches of two lovers. It was dirty, rough and careless. Calum loved it.

That was the first mistake Calum made. Letting people in.

This _thing_ that they had went on for awhile. After that night, they two had become friends and they'd take it turns to go to each other's houses and fuck to fill the empty void in their broken and boring lives. This was what Calum had wanted. He didn't want the strings attached or the messy details that came with being in a relationship; he just wanted to feel like he belonged somewhere, wanted to feel _alive_. 

That was Calum's second mistake.

It was a Thursday morning and the pair had just finished a second round of sex. Michael laid his head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat whilst Calum ran his left hand through Michael's now white hair. 

"Calum, what are we?"

The question had startled him. What were they? They were certainly more than just two friends who had sex with each other. Calum did care for Michael and Michael cared for Calum. It wasn't just the type of care you had for a friend but it wasn't the care someone would have for their significant other. It fit right between the two and unfortunately, he didn't have an answer for that.

He looked down at Michael, his brown eyes staring into his green ones, trying to ignore the innocence that plagued them. He refused to believe he was in love with Michael. He wasn't for that type of life. He didn't want the strenuous task of having someone to love, having someone to worry about his whereabouts and worry about not being alone. Calum wanted to be alone, he _craved_ the feeling of loneliness. However, as he thought about it more, Michael had been the only one who really cared about Calum. He had been for there for him when he told Michael about his gambling addiction, how he lost all of his money in casinos and how he was homeless for awhile. He told him about his shame of going back home and facing his family who hadn't bothered to reach out to him since he moved to the other side of the world. He had been the only one there for him when he found out about how his ex best friend was killed in a motorcycle accident back in Sydney and how he wasn't allowed to go to the funeral after ending on a bad note with each other when he was still alive. It was in that moment that Calum realized how truly alone he was, how he had built up these walls around himself and refused to let people in and how he had grown accustomed to loneliness. In that moment, he was hit with the overwhelming realization that he didn't want to be alone, that he didn't crave the feeling of loneliness and that this was the feeling he was used to after nobody had cared for so long. 

Michael was different, though. He had broken down Calum's walls and he had shown compassion and care through every struggle he had and never once judged him for that. Michael _cared_. Calum _craved_ it.

In response to his question, Calum shuffled a little and let out a breath. He was terrified of admitting how he felt, terrified of the pain and destruction of heartbreak, terrified of the initial thought of having to love someone other than himself. 

But with ease he said, "Lovers."

That was all it took for Michael to pin Calum down against the material of his worn mattress, kissing him deeply as a lazy smile graced his features.

"Round three?"

Calum was no longer laying in the darkness of his room and instead had made his way out onto the balcony to gaze at the busy street below him. His eyes filled with tears and before he knew it, he felt something wet on his hand and realized he was crying. He was grabbing onto the railing of the balcony with all the strength he had, clutching on for dear life as if he would fall. He continued to sob, his body wracking with every cry that left his mouth. The city below him couldn't hear his broken bawls, too busy with their own lives to notice his silent pleas of heartbreak, the undeniable pain in his chest that wouldn't stop hurting. The empty shell of what he once was. They couldn't see him clutching onto his chest, as if letting go would mean losing every last piece of Michael.

Calum had let himself fall so deep that it was impossible for him to drag himself out of the occupants of his rotten mind. This is what he was terrified of and falling in love was the final mistake he made.

He had started noticing the little details at first. The gradual distancing, the constant excuses. How Michael was excessively on his phone all the time, not even sparing a glance at him. It was the kisses that were shared between the sheets on cold nights that turned into small, barely touched exchanges. It was the sleeping through the alarm clock and being wrapped up in each others arms, not caring if they were late for work which turned quick goodbyes in the mornings. Sometimes, Michael would leave before Calum even woke. Most nights, he wouldn't even return home. 

Calum would wake up the next morning and would look at Michael whose back would be facing him and it'd give him the chance to notice the scratch marks that scattered from the tops of his shoulders, the hickeys littered on the sides of his neck. This time, it wasn't Calum who had given them to him. He wasn't stupid. He knew what was going on but he refused to let himself believe it. Michael was known as the "never sleep alone boy" in this town. He had built up this reputation for himself and he remembers when some _whore_ had come over to their home once, asking him if Michael was there. When asked why, she had simply told Calum, "He's my boyfriend. And who are you?" It was that day he felt his heart disintegrate. He refused to let himself believe that Michael was breaking his heart, that he was slowly clenching and unclenching it around his fingers, laughing at how _fucking broken_ he was making Calum. Michael was no longer the innocent boy who met Calum that night two years ago. He knew what he was getting himself into, putting up a façade and slowly breaking him down piece by piece. Maybe at one point he had loved Calum, but it was questionable whether he still did.

He'd always cover his menacing actions by saying, "You're no good for me, Calum. Always tugging at my sleeve like you can't live without me." Calum _hated_ when Michael would leave. But Calum _loved_ Michael.

He pulled himself away from the balcony and the blinking lights of the city, the sounds of police sirens and car horns echoing in the distance. Calum wanted to leave, he wanted to leave the city behind and go back home to Australia but he was scared, he was petrified that Michael would find him and bring him back, tossing him around like he was some rag doll. That was all Calum was to him now, he was some rag doll, a victim in his game of Russian roulette. He was stuck. He was stuck and he had given up everything for someone who didn't love him back. He had quit his job at the bar a year ago, after Michael reassured him that he'd provide everything for him.

Hearing the front door open, Calum subsided his sniffles and quickly made his way into bed, as if he hadn't been crying for the past two hours. His back was facing the door as he heard Michael come in, stumbling in and grunting some incoherent things under his breath. It took him about five minutes before he felt the bed dip and a drunk Michael made his way next to him. Michael was staring up at the ceiling and he could tell he was still awake due to his breathing. He heard him let out a breath before running one of his hands delicately down Calum's shoulders and back and Calum clenched his eyes shut, begging himself to not show Michael that he was still awake. He kept himself turned away and continued to let Michael run his hand up and down his back.

It was then that he heard it, a small, inaudible, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not the soul that I used to be." before taking his hand anyway and turning over. Calum bit his lip, fighting the urge to cry, before letting a new wave of silent tears stream down his face. Michael's soul had left his body and had turned him into something he was not, a carcass of what he used to be. But for the very first time in months, Calum truly believed Michael's ghost had returned to him, even if it was just a tiny piece.

_My ghost_   
_Where'd you go?_   
_I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me_   
_My ghost_   
_Where'd you go?_   
_What happened to the soul that you used to be?_


End file.
